


Double Exposure

by tremble_and_shake



Category: Jimmy Page - Fandom, Led Zeppelin, classic rock - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 14:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16874964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tremble_and_shake/pseuds/tremble_and_shake





	Double Exposure

She remained captivated through the entire show, surrendering wholly as the music assumed control of both her body and mind.  From the third row, she had an incredible view and at times would have sworn that he was looking _right_ at her.  The beat hypnotized her, while his guitar solos seduced her; the way he worked his fingers - and that bow- over those strings, like his guitar was this pulsing member and he just kept workin’ it and workin’ it.  

Later that night, in anticipation of the encore, the audience grew even more rowdy and sweaty, maintaining the hot and heavy texture that permeated the atmosphere. The stage went dark and the house lights flickered.  In the interim darkness, she felt a hand grab her shoulder and spin her round abruptly. **“Come with me, darling,”** a dark-haired man with a full beard said as he tried to pull her through the aisle.  

Thinking she was being thrown out by security for sharing a jay earlier, she resisted, trying to voice her protest only to be drowned in the crowd’s roar.  Feeling her reluctance, the man turned around again and called into her ear, **“Do you want to fuck Jimmy Page tonight, or not?”**

Her eyes widened as her lips made a flawed attempt at language. **“That’s what I thought.”**  This time, he led her onward with no resistance.

*    *    *

The boys trotted backstage in single file, giddy and high off another great gig.  Coming up at the rear was Jimmy, his glistening frame carried forward by a confident gait.  Cole greeted them with hearty laugh and passed Jimmy his bottle of Jack Daniel’s.  He slapped an arm around behind Bonzo and Robert. **"Look at them birds,“** he grinned, clearly proud of the lineup he procured for tonight. **"Just ripe for the pickin’, eh mates?”**

Jimmy strayed to a folding table that was scattered with pre-party remnants: discarded cigarette cartons and cellophane, spilled Solo cups and empty bottles; some found new life as ashtrays.  He searched the wreckage until he found a surviving cigarette.  Placing it between his lips, he purveyed the assemblage of women.  As usual, he would be the first to place dibs on one of the girls. An unspoken merit, as he saw it, of being the band’s deific leader.  

A few of the girls were eyeing him, but he just lit his cigarette and kept his gaze loose, pretending not to notice.

He kept them waiting just a moment longer before strolling up to the girl at the end of the queue, his cigarette in one hand and the bottle of Jack in the other.  Her denim skirt stopped mid-thigh, where it frayed wantonly.  She bit her lip in anticipation, but her lips burgeoned into a smile as soon he put his arm around her, claiming her.  

 **“Well done, Cole,”** Jimmy nodded towards him, straight-faced. **“I see you were paying attention tonight.”**

 **“That’s bloody, right. I’m a quick learner,”** replied Cole, who was now chastising one of the roadies over warm beer.

Refusing to raise his voice over the discord, Jimmy spoke softly, forcing her to lean in close. **“We’ll join the party again soon, darling, but let’s get acquainted first, shall we?”**  He motioned forward towards his dressing room door, his other arm draped snugly around her waist as they walked.   

 **“Oh, and Pagey,”** Cole interrupted, prompting a brusque chuff from Jimmy as he stopped mid-step, though he didn’t bother to turn around. **“There’s some stardust in your dressing room, too.”**  Without a word, Jimmy raised the whiskey bottle in acknowledgement then opened the door to the dressing room.

To the right was a crimson couch lined with plush, quilted velour. The hue and texture complemented the brocade of his Matador-style jacket so well that she wondered if it was a coincidence.  But all of his actions, however subtle, seemed to be intentional, _calculated_ \- even symbolic- in some way shape or form.

With a gentle push, he encouraged the door to swing towards the frame, but stopped it about half-way from shutting.  

 **“I saw you in the audience,”** he remarked with his back towards her.  When he turned, his hand reached out to her face, softly stroking her cheekbone before twirling the loose tresses that framed her face. **”And I knew then that I wanted to have you tonight.”**  His sage-gray eyes rested gently on his lower lids like pillows, his gaze soft but unflinching. It was clear this was not up for discussion; his mind was already made.

He poured a glass of wine from the half-finished bottle left on his dressing table.  As he handed it to her, he lowered himself slightly to sit on the arm of the couch and put out his cigarette in a makeshift ashtray.

Without consciously willing them to, her fingers reached out and grazed the delicate patch of hair on his upper chest, still damp from sweat, then fingered his necklace.  The feeling of the cool metal between her fingers worked like a totem, a reminder that she wasn’t in a dream.  

 **“How did you find the show this evening?”** he queried, his hand staking claim on the small of her back.  

 **“It was beyond incredible, Jimmy,”** she said softly, still thumbing the pendant. **“The energy from the band was visceral. And your _guitar_ solos.” ** She let her eyes shut momentarily and her lips curled inwards, emanating a barely-audible moan. **“You play with such a passion, it sent chills up my spine.”**

 **“That good, you say?  Well,”** he continued with a defiant smirk, pressing his hand more firmly at the base of her spine.   **“My guitar playing isn’t the only way that I intend to make your spine tingle this evening.”**  At his touch, a slight arch formed in her lower back and her hips yielded into him until she was nearly straddled over his thigh.  

Her palm flattened her onto his chest, releasing the silver hieroglyph as well as her attention from it, allowing her gaze to drop briefly into his lap, then into his eyes. He held the gaze for just an instant, before hungrily grabbing her backside and pulling her higher onto his thigh until she could feel the friction of his jeans against her panties.

She chirred at his aggressive gesture, then surrendered to a moan the second he drowned her lips in his. He sat deeper to allow the angle of his thigh to ride up between her legs, coaxing her to rub herself on him, although she needed little persuasion.

His hands grew more aggressive, riotous, as they snuck under the denim skirt and hoisted it up. **“Mmm, Jimmy,”** she murmured, her lower lip held captive between his teeth. **“My ass, and the audience!”** she nodded behind her to the door which was still quite ajar, her hips wriggling to shimmy the fabric down.

 **“Oh, don’t be demure now,”** he said through heated, greedy laps at her mouth.   **“Your body should be on display in a bloody museum.”**  She hesitated for just a breath before relinquishing to his desire, allowing him hike her skirt back up for all to see.

One hand continued to paw ravenously at her ass cheek, the other tangled in her hair.  Her fingers grasped his waist to stabilize her fluid movements as she straddled his thigh.  Their moans escaped the back of their throats, only to die on blended tongues.

Breaking away from the kiss, he came to standing and slowly licked his lips.  One hand lingered at her inner thigh, brushing the skin delicately with his calloused fingertips. He was lust-driven; not only for her, for the carnal pulse, but for the display of power.

 **“Take off the shirt, love.  But the skirt can stay.”**  Again, her instinct led her to peer over her shoulder towards the open doorway, but the second she flinched to do so he shook his head. **“Uh-uh,”** he admonished. **“This is for me.  You’re mine tonight, and I want them to see you.”**

His penchant for control was insatiable. **“I’ve just never…never done this, you know, in front of people.”**

 **“You’re saying that if I were to take you _right_ here, _right_ now, your pussy wouldn’t be dripping wet and aching for me to fuck you?” ** His hands teased their way under her skirt again, and he cocked his head.. **“I find that _rather_ hard to believe, love.  Do you understand why that’s so?” **

He could feel the wetness soaking through her panties. With a quick yank, he had the skirt up over her hips, giving himself better access to her warmth. His bit his lower lip, his eyes narrowing into half moons as a puckish expression took over.

 **“Tell you what.  If you’re not wet and ready for me, we won’t do this.  Believe me, I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”** His hand trailed from the front of her panties, across her taut belly and upwards between her breasts. His hand assumed the curve of her neck where it hovered just passed her collarbone. The other hand pushed aside her panties, cupping her pubic bone, the tips of his fingers already slick.   **“But something tells me you want this more than you are letting on,”** he whispered into her ear, his breath as hot as the ember growing between her legs.   

His drove two fingers inside her.  Anticipating her sharp inhale, he bit down on her earlobe, pushing her senses into overdrive. He began to pump his fingers in a throbbing rhythm until her bottom jaw hung slack, surrendering. **“I think you want to be fucked while they watch.”  His** rhythm stopped as briskly it started, and he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked her juices off them. **“Mmm,”** he smiled smugly, then painted her lips with the sweet, sticky residue.   **“Just as I predicted.”**

He unzipped his pants and pulled them down just enough to comfortably release himself.   **“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, getting wet at that thought. ”**  He grabbed her shoulder and eased her around, bending her over the arm of the couch. **“Mmm,”** he began to slide his cock between her legs, back and forth, teasing himself with her wet lips.

He became harder with each stride, until he couldn’t take it any further.  As he guided himself inside her, a slow, hot breath expelled from her lungs as she felt him fill her.  Jimmy’s hands gripped her hips and he began thrusting, expediting the pace.  His dark curls strayed away from his face as he let his head drop backwards.  Her breath hitched behind muffled moans.  

 **“There’s no need for restraint now.  Let them hear you.”**  As if to challenge her ability to keep quiet, he assumed a vellicated tempo, jolting her hips back forcefully to meet each of his thrusts with a pronounced, forceful slap.  Until ━ just like he intended ━  her tender mewling punctuated each beat.

Sliding his hand around to her front, his fingers instantly found her bud like it was second nature.  This sultry assault on her clit draws whimpers from her throat, sharper and more clarion than before, which in turn coaxes more guttural hymns from his own.

He placed his thumb into his mouth, slathering it with his tongue. **“Good girl,”** he growls, placing his slick thumb against her asshole and applying pressure through subtle ministrations.  He can feel her body weaken, succumbing to the added sensation.

 **“Mmm, fuck.  Does that feel good?”**  Between his rhythmic pumping and the dual-stimulation by his fingers, all she could manifest were muted whimpers.  Displeased, he began thrusting harder and applying more pressure against her. **“I _said_ , does that feel good for you? I want to hear you.” **

**“Yes, uh, uh,”** she squeaked with each pound, her fingers clutching the seam of the cushion. **“It feels so fucking good Jimmy, keep going. You’re gonna make me cum like this.”**  Her knees began to give out, her weight falling forward against the velvety arm of the settee.  

 **“That’s a good girl.  Let them hear how much you like being fucked like this.”** On a physical level, he had her in overdrive and she kept moaning loudly as her muscles spasmed.  But he had also awakened something in her psychologically or emotionally, that let her _own_ this pleasure, unashamedly so.

Jimmy felt himself on the edge of release, her newly found abetment to voyeurism only propelling him closer.  He maintained his ministrations until he felt her walls clench against him. With a soft, breathy groan he came inside her, his body caving forward, their bodies shuddering together beneath the gravity of their carnal desires.

After catching his breath, he stood up and took her hand to gently lift her off the couch.  As he did so, he adjusted her panties and tugged the skirt to sit back down on her hips. **“The washroom is right over there, love,”** he pointed, encouraging her to lead the way. **“Why don’t we tidy up?”**

Once in the bathroom, he turned the faucet to let the warm water run.  As they washed up, he caught her eyes in the mirror and he smiled.  The innocence it contained belied how lascivious he could be, of what they had just done together.

She pulled her hair back then turned her head to see the other side.  Satisfied, she tied it back.   **“Just gorgeous,”** he said as they left and padded back through the dressing room.   **“Now, tell me something love,”** he whispered, his fingers maintaining their delicate connection with the small of her back as they walked.    **“Do you feel contrite about what we’ve done, or ashamed at all?”**

The pair rejoined the party, receiving a few smirks and jeers from the roadies and other band members. At least one of the other girls looked envious, almost vindictively so. She surprised herself by taking it all in stride and maintaining her poise. She paused for a moment to think, then turned to him and smiled. **“Quite the opposite. I feel thoroughly _un_ ashamed.”  **

 **“Good,”** he said, wrapping his arm around her waist snugly, **“because the night is still young, and I’m not done with you yet.”**


End file.
